DEXTER: Ho Ho, Ho
by Tharpdevenport
Summary: It's Christmas time in Miami, and it looks like Dexter will have some wrapping to do. Set in later Season 3 thought S3 hasn't gotten that far yet .
1. Chapter 1

Voiceover: "It's going to happen. And it's going to happen today."  
"I'm sorry sir, it can't."  
The real world pours back in and an instrumental of "Sleigh Ride" plays in the speakers.  
"Don't say it..." says Dexter.  
A petit blonde clerk behind a desk at a fancy toy store replies, "None of our suppliers currently have any in stock."  
"Are you positive?"  
"It was this year's hot selling item, I guess."  
He thinks inside, "I know you don't kill the bearer of bad news, but after coming up empty at all the major retailers you start to get an itchy knifing finger," he then speaks aloud, "Thanks anyway."  
He starts walking out the building, passed the line of people; he pushes the glass doors open, oblivious to holding them open for other shoppers.  
His inner monologue starts rumbling, "That leaves KB Toys. I don't want to go to KB Toys; it's like an inferior Toy-R-Us. the K-Mart of toy stores. Wait a second..." he then shouts out, "Hey!" and runs over to his van.  
A meter maid writes a ticket.  
"What are you doing?" he asks.  
"Right now?" he shakes her head and raises her eye brows, "solving complex algebra, but after that I'm writing you a ticket," say the black female meter maid sarcastically.  
"I put money in the thing," he points.  
"Your time's up."  
"I was in line for over 30 minutes; if I got out I would loose my place. Store policy. They have a sign," he says grumpily.  
"What in the world is so important for waiting 30 minutes?"  
"A Mega Morphin' Power Mounty."  
"Oh yeah; those things are selling like the cure for AIDs. Got one here yesterday."  
"_Here?_"  
"The last one."  
"Oh. Is this really necessary, I'm with homicide in Miami Metro."  
She rips it off and hands it to him, "Then you know where to pay it," and walks off to check other vehicles.  
As Dexter gets into his van he thinks to himself, "Deb always likes to tell me Christmas is that special time of the year where people are friendly and giving, but really -- I've never met so many people I wanted to kill in such a short amount of time."  
His cell phone rings as he buckles himself in. He flips his phone open and answers, "Morgan. I'll be there."  
He looks, then pulls out.

Dexter flashes his laminate and enters the crime scene, a house.  
"Hey Dex -- where you been?" asks his sister.  
"Hunting."  
"For what?"  
They head over to Masuka who is taking pictures.  
"Thee elusive and wily Mega Morphin' Power Mounty."  
"What the fuck is that?"  
Masuka stands and looks up, "Did someone say _Mega Morphin' Power Mounty_?"  
"I did," he starts looking at the body.  
"You find some place that sells any?" asks Masuka.  
"You have kids?" Debra interjects.  
"Kids? That shit is for me."  
"I'm surprised it doesn't have tits," Debra toys with him.  
Quick on his feet he replies, "But it does take batteries, so it might vibrate."  
"Wank off on your own time, Vince."  
"Lovely," says Dexter, looking at the blood.  
Masuka puts his hands on his heart, "She knows my name."  
Commander Laguerata clears her throat and Masuka continues taking pictures, "What do we got here, Morgan?"  
"The spray pattern on the couch indicates a gunshot wound at close range from the doorway."  
"Makes sense; there was no sign of forced entry. Who ever did it must have already been in the house. Cable repair man, plumber, boyfriend," suggests Angel.  
"UPS guy, or some deliver service. It is that time of the year," offers Debra.  
"Looks like I'm not the only one wanting to kill at this time of year," Dexter thinks. "Wait..."  
"What?" asks Maria.  
"This area of the couch here has no blood spray."  
"So?" asks his sister.  
"See how the spray traces a contour here on the head rest? There was something here but it was moved."  
"That would be the other victims," Angel looks at Dexter with sad eyes.  
"Other victims?"

Boom -- Dexter's heart sinks as he enters the kitchen. A little girl lies on her stomach on the floor, an arm stretched out.  
"And this one," Angel walks out the back door where a little boy lie dead on his stomach too.  
"Well, the gunshot wounds to their backs are obvious. Looks like from the trail of blood she was trying to drag herself to her brother."  
"It takes a sick fuck I tell you, a really sick fuck. Dexter, you all right?"  
"They look like Astor and Cody's ages. Excuse me," he whips out his cell phone and speed dials. Its rings and rings and finally she picks up, "Rita?"  
"What's up? I'm at work right now," she says at her office desk.  
"Don't answer the door to anybody you don't know."  
"What's wrong?"  
"Just ... we may have a killer going around and posing as a repairman or delivery guy. Please keep the door locked."

"I will. Dexter, I lov-" she pulls her phone away and looks surprised.

Dexter puts his cell in his pocket.  
Standing with her arms folded in the kitchen, Maria says, "What do you mean _'killer'_?"  
"The shots were precise. Not excellent, no major arteries hit, but areas that would cause quick death. I -- I have to get out of this area..." he shoves his way passed Laguerata. He stands in the living room.  
"Talked to the neighbors. None of them heard any gunshots," says Debra.  
"Used a silencer, most likely," says Dexter.  
"Various items appear to be stolen. Looks like a standard home invasion. But why didn't he just tie them up? Why kill them straight off the bat?" asks Angel, puzzled.  
"I need some fresh air," Dexter goes outside. He thinks to himself, "Why now? Of all the times I've had to feel something, why now? It's not like these are the first kids I've ever seen murdered. Looks like I have two things to hunt now."  
Debra grabs him by a shoulder, "Dex, what's up?"  
"Ah ... nothing."  
"Nothing? I've never seen you get that way ever. I thought you compartmentalized."  
"I thought so too."  
"I don't supposed you feel like opening up to me yet?"  
"Deb..." he looks down and doesn't continue.  
"Fine, when you're done being Spock, let me know," and she walks back into the crime scene.  
Dexter look confused and thinks to himself, "What is she talking about? Spock was awesome."

...  
Dexter walks threw the alley of desks to his lab.  
"So..." says Debra who catches up from behind.  
"You like to sow?"  
"Fuckhead."  
"I'm sure you meant that in the most enduring of ways," he replies.  
"Damn right, asshole. What'cha gettin' me for Christmas?"  
"A big box of condoms."  
She punches him in his left arm.  
"Ow -- and feisty too. I'll help you use those," Vince says from his desk.  
"Vince, you want to be the first guy to die with an extra large candy cane up his butt?"  
"Tempting..." he toys with a smile.  
"He'd probably like that," she says to her brother.  
"Well, I'm at my office," says Dexter.  
"So? This isn't you Fortress of Solitude."  
"Obviously not," he thinks to himself.  
"What are you doing Christmas eve?"  
"Hopefully wrapping some things. And your present," he sits down, "don't really know. Might have diner with Rita and the kids. Definitely be there Christmas Day."  
"Well then, me and you -- we'll have a little diner, watch a movie."  
"Okay."  
"Good. Catch you later," she walks off.  
"Probably will," he looks out his window at her while she leaves.

...  
"I hate Christmas," says a very young Dexter with his dad.  
"You can't hate Christmas, son."  
"Why not?"  
"It's the happiest time of the year. Unless you put up a good front, people are going to see you don't fell it."  
"So? Do I have to be happy everyday of the year?"  
"No. And truth be told, not everybody is happy on Christmas."  
"Then why?"  
"If not for anyone else -- do it for your sister. She loves Christmas -- don't spoil it for her."  
"All right."  
"And one day, hopefully, you might have someone you want to spend Christmas with and you'll have to pretend for them.  
I haven't asked you yet, but what do you want for Christmas?"  
Young Dexter looks at him and thinks for a second.

"Dex."  
"What?" he comes out of a daze.  
"What do you want for Christmas?" asks Debra.  
"I don't need anything; lie," he says inside himself. He thinks aloud, "Maybe a bowling ball."  
"Is that what you really want?"  
"I guess."  
"I gotta go do paper work. Remember -- Tuesday we celebrate. See ya," she leaves for real this time.  
Dexter fills out paper work. He reads other papers. He compares papers then picks up some photos of blood from the crime scene, of the carpet after the mother was moved.  
Inner monologue, "It's like a Rorschach inkblot test. And I see evil."  
A knock at his lab door draws his attention; Angel; stands there.  
"Hey Angel. How can I help you?"  
"I'm going Christmas shopping. Why don't you come along?"  
"Because I don't need witnesses when I kill the meter maid," he thinks inside. "I ... can't think of a reason why not."  
"Good. I'll wait for you in the parking lot here tomorrow at about four. Merry Christmas, Dexter."  
Nods his head, "You too," he watches Angel leave. "I can't even bring myself to say it. Sometimes I think I'm part of the War On Christmas. Hum. Somehow I've lead Angel to believe I'm his friendly shopping buddy. Damn."


	2. Chapter 2

Dexter sits in his van with the heater running. His cell phone rings and he checks who it is before answering.  
"Hey."  
"Just wanted to let you know we're all safe. Heard anything about the killer?" asks Rita.  
"They're still putting their reports together. Might be a one-time thing," he then says inside, "after I'm done with him."  
"That's good to hear. Did you ever find that toy for Cody?"  
"I didn't know he'd be asking for the Ark of the Covenant; nobody has any. I'm starting to think it's a wide spread lie."  
"Well, hopefully my present was easier."  
"Oh yeah, much more so. I got to go -- Batista's here. Love you."  
She replies, "Me too. Bye."  
"Bye," and then speaks inside himself, "Shit. I haven't bought Rita a present. Presents for the co-workers, extra large bags, a Mega Morphin' Power Mounty, gift for Astor, rolls of plastic wrap ... I'm gonna have to make a list."  
BEEP! BEEP! A horn sounds. He looks and sees Angel waving.  
"Oh no..."

Dexter sits in the passenger seat of Angel's vehicle.  
Dexter eventually breaks the silence, as he felt it was starting to become unnatural, "So, you having a happy holiday?"  
"There are a lot of holidays this month, care to be more specific?"  
"Christmas time."  
"I guess. My ex wife won't invite me over because her parents are in town. Can't see my daughter either."  
"I'm sorry about that," Dexter fakes a caring expression.  
"You know, you're lucky to have what you got. It sucks being alone, man. Especially for Christmas."  
The car stops at a red light.  
"No, I've had Debra for every time."  
"You see? Didn't even know that."  
"See what?" asks Dexter.  
"We've worked together for a while now and all I know about you is your sister and your father. You never open up."  
They continue to drive; he turns on the right blinker and pulls into the mall parking lot.  
"For example?" Dexter asks.  
"For example: almost every day you come in with doughnuts and you know exactly what kind everyone likes, but I've never seen you eat one; I don't even know if you like doughnuts."  
"Doughnut holes."  
"Plain, glazed, chocolate, white powder, cake, yeast?"  
"I didn't even know they came in more than one variety."  
"You can learn a lot when you just talk to people. I hear you're trying to buy some toy."  
"A Mega Morphin' Power Mounty," Dexter unbuckles as Angel parks.  
"Really? That's the big shit in Canada, I hear."  
"I'll probably have to book an overnight flight there just to get one."  
Angel laughs and opens his door, "Come on -- we'll check KB."  
"Damn."

...  
Tick-tock, tick-tock, the clock on the wall of a room sounds.  
"And how did that make you feel?"  
"How did it fucking make me feel?" Debra raises her voice and eye brows and sits up, "I wanted to blow his fucking head off."  
"But you didn't."  
"Oh, I wanted to. I can't throw my career out for some snot-nosed punk."  
"You're only saying that. We all have feelings of hostility, but we don't act upon them, and that's because we know better. Considering what happened to you half a year ago, I think this is nothing more than a simple case of transference. You're taking all your built up feelings of anger and vengeance because of Rudy and placing them upon somebody else, all in an attempt to gain closure."  
"No," Debra sits upright on the couch, "I dreamed of killing him; I even drove around one time to see if I could find him."  
Ger psychiatrist's mouth hangs agape.  
**DING!** The timer bell rings once.

"I guess our time's up," she grabs her purse and walks to the door out.

...  
"You take care, Dexter. Sorry you couldn't find that toy," says Angel.  
Sighs, "Yeah. See you tomorrow."  
"bye," Angel drives off and honks his horn.  
Dexter enters the police station; he sees a fiber optic Christmas tree on his sister's desk, and a big red stocking on Masuka's.  
Laguerata stands in front of her office doors with her arms folded, "Morgan."  
Dexter looks over at her, "Ah, coming."  
She enters her office and waits for him.  
"Sit."  
He does as she closes the doors. She makes her way around the desk and sits as well.  
"I just came in to use the bathroom," Dexter comments.  
"Did you think you would get away with it?"  
"Ah..."  
"That no one would notice?"  
"Sort of."  
"Well, I did."  
Dexter picks up a pen and clicks out the tip, behind the desk.  
"This year it's your turn to hang the Christmas decorations."  
"Oh ... OH. I've just been preoccupied."  
"By what?"  
"By the never ending hunt for a Mega Morphin' Power Mounty."  
"Those things? They're popular as hell. I'd hate to be the parent of a kid who doesn't get one."  
"Tell me about it..."  
"While you're here, you might as well hang some. I put a few boxes in your office."  
"I have some free time."  
"Good," says Maria.  
Dexter gets up.  
"Aren't you forgetting something?"  
"I don't think so," he comments.  
"Marry Christmas."  
"Oh, same to you," fakes a smile again, then leaves her office, going threw the maze of desks to his. He picks up a box and heads out toward the middle isle.  
Masuka walks over, "Hey Dex -- you were right. The killer did use a silencer. Forensics found trace shavings in the bullet wounds from the silencer chamber. Commonly use model. There weren't many ballistic fingerprints on the bullets, so I'm guessing the gun and silencer are new."  
Dexter thinks to himself, "Of course I was right; I could smell the burnt metal from the silencer in the air -- like a scented candle," the then speaks aloud, "any suspects yet?"  
"No, not yet."  
Inner monologue, "Florida hand law requires registering a permit for a firearm and a special one for a silencer, with ATF. If he applied, he'll be in the database."  
Laguerata burst out of her office, "Morgan, Masuka, come on -- there's been another one!"

...  
Dexter pulls up in his van. He wades the red & blue flashing lights atop the police cruisers. As he passes from the street onto the lawn, an officer goes by stringing yellow tape.  
Debra runs up to him as he walks and says, "Hey Dex."  
"Hey. Where were you?"  
"Gift shopping."  
"I guess dispatch already told you."  
"Yeah. Fucking _Miami Vice_; city didn't used to be so bad until Crockett & Tubbs came along."  
They enter the house. An officer is placing evidence markers and Masuka is checking his camera.  
"Will you look at that," says Debra.  
"Yeah. It's terrible," comments Dexter.  
"She's wearing Armani. I'd kill for Armani."  
Dexter thinks to himself, "I'd probably just kill for a Polo."  
"How's it look, Dex?" asks Masuka.  
"Same as before; gun shot wound at close range, resulting blood spray from the exit wound."  
"The presents are missing -- just like the last house. The indentations in the white snow mat are there. He even took their goddamn gifts," says Debra.  
Dexter comments inward, "Someone's definitely made the Naughty List."  
Masuka speaks, "This guy has got a serious humbug up his ass."  
"I'm going to go talk to the neighbors, see if they saw this guy," Debra walks off.  
Laguerata comes downstairs, "There's one more up there; another kid, shot dead."  
"So, Dex, you found that action figure play set yet?" asks Masuka.  
"No. I don't think any stores here actually had it to begin with; probably just put up shelf stickers and told everybody they sold out. Just to create a buzz."  
"That's actually not a bad idea. But hey -- I think I found a guy on Craigslist who might have one."  
"Let me know if it's for sale, Vince," says Dexter.  
"_**Hey!**_" Debra comes running in, "Got something. The old lady across the street saw a UPS van out front earlier."  
"'bout time. Call the local UPS distributors and tell them to confirm all the truck numbers working today and what time deliveries generally begin and end; have a pring out given to each unit and tell them to check every UPS van they see. Morgan," Maria looks at Debra, "get this to the local news stations. With any luck the killer will see it and we'll have some paint shop tomorrow morning with a UPS can and request for a new paint job."  
To himself, "He won't do that; probably paint the thing himself."  
"UPS always knocks on the doors," says Debra.  
"So there might be skin cells on it," Masuka finishes her thought.  
"Masuka, get that door secured and tested immediately," commands Laguerata.  
"Yes, sir," he moves toward the entrance.  
"People, we could have this guy in custody by tomorrow night. Make sure you don't miss anything."  
"Tomorrow is Friday. Plenty of time for him to buy that paint, repaint the van and have it dry over the weekend," Dexter thinks inside.  
Masuka arrives back at the front doors with a brief case; he puts some rubber gloves on, "I don't care what your sister says; Don Johnson rocks."


	3. Chapter 3

It's early morning. Dexter weeds threw plastic bags and papers in shopping carts in a parking lot.  
"Nearing 10:30 when I tried a third store that carries paint, Lowes. After chatting with the Paint Desk clerk for ten minutes, and learning way more about paint and the various types it comes in, finally the conversation made it's way in where I had intended it: automobile repainting. Asking if any customers ever come in inquiring about doing about doing such, the clerk tells me someone came in and asked how many cans of paint remover were needed for a van, and that said customer bought a few cans of white paint for the new paint job; probably a USPS van now.  
It's a stretch, but some credit purchases print the owner's name on the receipt, and since people often don't keep their receipts and he would have had to use a shopping cart for all the cans, one can only hope..." he finds a receipt and reads it aloud, "Two medium sized cans of white, one small of red, one small of blue, and three cans of paint remover. Charles Delmeter," he thinks inside, "that's an obscure last name; probably just him and his parents in the phone book. Well, Charles Delmeter, you and I are going to take a sleigh ride together."  
His cell phone rings. He starts pushing his cart while walking and answers with the free hand.  
"Morgan."  
"Dex, where are you?" comes Masuka's voice from the phone.  
"Lowes. I did some..." he looks at the extra large garbage bags and bundles of plastic wrap, "shopping."  
"The guy on Craigslist replied and he gave me an address and said for you to come on over. He's got a Mega Morphin' Power Mounty."  
"Fantastic. Thanks, Vince. What's that address?"

...  
Dexter pulls into a driveway. In front of him is a small car with a bumper sticker that reads: I Brake For Tribbles. He exits his can and walks up the driveway and to the front door. He presses the doorbell and it sounds the familiar chime from later seasons of "Star Trek: The Next Generation".  
A middle aged man with black hair and glasses answers.  
"Hello?"  
"Ah, my friend contacted you via Craigslist in regards to the Mega Morphin' Power Mounty."  
"Yes, yes, come in! So, you want to make a bid?"  
"_'bid'_?" he replies in question as the man closes the door.  
"Yeah, it's already up to two-hundred dollars."  
"For a toy?"  
"Not just any toy. The first batch of 5,000 came out okay and sold like hot cakes, but when the Mega Unit was destroyed in the season two episode _Night of the Timber Wolf_, people started gobbling i up because they knew a new Mega Mounty Unit would be commissioned by the Mounty Triumvirate. But then they recalled all of the second batch of the play set because they found lead paint on it. It's like China is trying to kill us. Just last night I was talking on a Google discussion group about China using lead paint to lower the intelligence of Americans kids and--"  
Dexter cuts him off, "Listen, my girlfriend's son really wants one and I just came here to buy it."  
"Buy it? the dark-haired man grunts, "Are you mad?"  
"No, but I'm getting there. I assume yours doesn't have lead paint."  
"It's a genuine first batch edition, collector's number 1088."  
"Good. How much?"  
"I don't think you understand -- they stopped making it. This thing is gonna bring 500 minimum."  
Dexter thinks to himself, "And I thought I was insane."  
"Besides, you can't give this to a kid; it has to stay in it's package."  
"I never owned any toys when I was a kid, but I think it's generally known you remove them from the box to play with them."  
The man shakes his head and mutters, "No, no, no, no, no -- I can't let you bid on this."  
"That works out rather nicely, as I can't in good conscious pay five- hundred dollars for a plastic toy."  
"Tell your buddy to look elsewhere," he moves to the front door and opens it.  
Dexter exits the house and comments, "Aren't you going to tell me to _Live Long and Prosper_?"  
"Unless there's anything else I can help you with..." says the man with his hands on his hips.  
"You wouldn't happen to have ever killed anybody per chance..."  
"Fuck off," and slams the door on Dexter.  
Dexter thinks to himself "And there's somebody else I'd like to kill, but how do you kill that which does not already possess life?"

...  
The moon shines in the night and the North Star gleans brightly. Dexter drives his van through a neighborhood.  
His inner monologue rolls, "After some creative gift finding for Astor, I purchased Rita a year's worth of free spa visits to a local luxury spa; considering the year she's had recently, it only seemed a good getaway for her. Then I even tried the black market for a Mega Morphin' Power Mounty and even they were out of stock. Still drawing a blank on what to get Debra.  
Finding Charles Delmeter proved earlier then expected; he was the only Delmeter in the white pages. After the incident with Lila, I started using Google Maps and bingo -- the shortest route to the Delmeter household."

Dexter sneaks about the bushes in Delmeter's lawn; dressed in all black he makes his way to the side of the car garage.  
"The smell of paint remover still lingered in the air from the cans in the dumpster, and the smoke rising from the bottom of the car port door only meant one thing: he already repainted the van and was using heating lamps to hasten the drying process."  
He sneaks around back, looking in each window to see if he can spot the killer. He catches an empty dark room and tries the window; it opens.  
"Maybe Debra was right about people being generous this time of year," he thinks to himself as he lowers his duffle bag in. He climbs in next. After pausing to listen, he opens a small case and removes the syringe, which he sticks into the tranquilizer bottle and fills.  
He walks quietly to the door and opens it ever so slightly, looking out. He sees nothing, but hears a low television. The carpet masks his steps as he makes his way out of the room. He walks a few feet forward and stops at a doorway arch; the living room light shines into the darkened hall. He peaks around the corner; empty. He tries the door to his immediate right; bathroom. He heads down the other side of the hall to another door.  
"Got you," he thinks to himself once the door is opened. About the dark room is nearly three dozen wrapped Christmas presents.  
He backtracks and moves silently out into the living room and into the adjacent kitchen. He spots the connecting door to the garage, which is closed. As he leans in slowly with his left ear, the door suddenly opens. He backs into the corner quickly. Charles Delmeter walks out and turns right into the hall. Dexter hears the bathroom door close. He quickly darts into the garage and sees the repainted van, this time a USPS design as he suspected, under the damp yellow glow of the lamps.  
On the shelf next to him he sees buckets of paint resting. He moves one until it is teetering on the edge of the shelf, then hides behind the front of the van. Once down he hears the bathroom door open; he taps the syringe and test it.  
"Goddamn paint odors!" exclaims Delmeter who walks in and slams the door. Just then, the paint can to his right falls off the shelf and bursts open, splashing paint everywhere. "Son of a b--" the needle sticks into his neck.

...  
Delmeter wakes up slowly, still feeling the after affects of the tranquilizer. He sees all his garage to the left and right covered in plastic.  
"You didn't have a work table so I had to use the kitchen one."  
"Who are you?"  
"You know," Dexter gets up from sitting in a chair, "I'm still working on that one myself, but for the sake of the holidays, you could say I'm the Ghost of Christmas Passed."  
"If you want money, I got it," Delmeter raises his eyebrows and in a persuasive tone of offering.  
"I assure you Mr. Delmeter, if I wanted your money, strategically -- I'm in a position to just take it."  
"Then tell me what you want."  
"I want you to look at this photo," he holds one up by Delmeter's head, "Marissa Good. Look familiar?"  
"No," shakes his head.  
"Really? Then those Christmas presents that read: From Marissa, with love! -- they're just coincidental?" he comments, to which Delmeter doesn't answer as Dexter picks up the next photo, "Or how about Katheryn Silverson? And before you waste the last moments of your life lying, I should tell you her name is on the other gifts as well."  
"So what if I did, Columbo?"  
"Dexter," he says -- not getting the reference -- as he rubs the photo across Delmeter's face. "How'd you know them?"  
"I used to work for UPS. I had affairs with both of them. They met each other randomly at some party and eventually they talked about me. Eventually they told UPS. Stupid bitches let me right in without a second thought. IT was like cake. I may die, but I'm not going to do it sorry. I was five years from retirement!" he bellows angrily.  
"Well, lucky for me I don't require repentance. Good had one kid and Silverson had two; a girl and a boy. You ran them down like animals and shot them in the back. That makes me angry, M. Delmeter..." picks up a large knife from his folded out set.  
"I couldn't leave witnesses."  
"You know, I want to thank you," says Dexter.  
"For what?" Delmeter says in a pissed tone.  
"You've made me realize the change within me; seeing those two children dead confirmed in me what I myself was not fully to terms with. So, thank you."  
Smirks and guffs, "Is that all?"  
"Oh," Dexter pauses over Delmeter, "and Merry Christmas," and jams the knife straight into his heart.  
Delmeter struggles briefly and Dexter holds a hand over his mouth, muting the yelling.

...  
Dexter sits on his living room floor unwrapping gifts in the morning light.  
His inner monologue rolls, "After dispatching Delmeter I remembered Harry used to tell me about the unfortunate kids who got nothing on Christmas, so I loaded all the gifts and brought them back here. A local church Harry used to support is wanting donations, so I'm unwrapping all the gifts so some little boy doesn't get a Barbie Dream House this year. Every year I had to pretend to enjoy unwrapping the gifts because I always had my family there, and as I unwrap these -- alone for the first time ever in my life -- I realized there is a certain level of interest . Bling Bling Barbie?" he looks at one toy with a grimace and then trashes it. As he tears the next one open, his eyes widen and his jaw hangs, "A Mega Morphin' Power Mounty ... number 3558. If he wasn't dead, I'd thank him again," he takes out his cell phone and speed dials; it rings, "Hello, Rita? Dexter. I got it."

...  
Dexter backs his van up to the front of a church. The van stops and the lights cut off. Dexter exits his vehicle and walks around.  
"Father Mulcahey?"  
"You must be Dexter Morgan," the priest grabs Dexter's right hand with both of his and shakes it, "we've never had a donation of such magnitude from one person. That's quite a heart you have there."  
Dexter says inside himself, "I Googled all the toys for their prices, figured in tax, and filled it away for a tax deductible donation to charity for next year's taxes."  
"A lot of children are going to wake up with smiles come Christmas morning. Bless you Mr. Morgan, bless you."  
"What can I say? I'm always thinking about others."  
"Well, I'll be thinking of you in my prayers tonight. May the lord be with you, son."  
Thinks to himself, "Just don't tell him that," then replies aloud, "Thank you, father. You have a Merry Christmas," and nods his head before re- entering his van.  
"Same to you!" Mulcahey replies back as Dexter pulls off.

...  
Dexter enters his apartment after a day of handing out gifts to his co-workers on Christmas Eve, including a spare Mega Morphin' Power Mounty for Masuka.  
"Hey Dex," says Debra as she sets plates of food on the table.  
"It smells like an odd combination of burnt ham and cinnamon."  
"Fuck you," she replies.  
"I'll take that as a season's greeting. I got you a special present."  
"Give it here!" she dashes around the kitchen to Dexter on the outside. She rips it open, tossing the papers on the floor, then opens the lid of the revealed card board box. She removes a slinky black dress, "Dexter ... Armoni. thank you. I've never been able to afford anything like this. I feel bad. I got you a bowling ball."  
"Well, I did ask for one."  
"And I don't even have it here," she laughs, "I brought it to this artist who was going to give it a special paint job but he got sick and couldn't finish it; he still has the damn thing. I actually got two: one with your face so your eyes are the finger holes, and anothero ne all white with blood spla--"  
"Shhh..."  
"Are you shusing me? You don't shush me," she playfully whacks him in his left shoulder.  
"You know how you always ask me to open up? Rita lost the baby."  
"I had no idea. Oh Dex," she puts her arms on his shoulders."  
"And last year I learned my real mother was murdered, while I watched. I must have blocked it out."

"I haven't asked yet, but what do you want for Christmas?"  
Dexter looks back at his father with apathetic eyes and utters non-chalantly, "Too feel something."0

Dexter and Debra stand in the living room, embracing one another in a hug. Dexter holds tight as tears actually flow from his eyes, catching even him by surprise.  
Debra whispers, "Merry Christmas, Dex."

...

**--THE END--**


End file.
